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This is the weirdest situation I've ever been in. All I can see around me are giant pips and red jam, I can't even move very far without banging against another glass wall. It's not easy floating in Jam. I know that makes me sound like an expert, but it's certainly true of this Strawberry Jam pot I currently find myself in. The worst thing is that I don't even like Strawberry Jam.
Before you ask, I know what you're wondering. 'How did I get stuck in a pot of jam?', well, I'll tell you. I am, or was until today, a door-to-door salesman. It's not a difficult career, as any modern salesman will tell you. I simply drop a magazine through the letterbox and hope to have an order when I come back to collect it.
The secret to good selling (and don't pass this on to anyone, else I'll be out of a job) is to sound absolutely convinced that what you're selling them will change your customer's life forever. What you actually know is that they're buying yet another item that will sit on top of the fridge or a shelf in the kitchen and never get used. The important thing is to believe they will use it every day and couldn't possibly live without it, if you believe it, so will they. It also helped that most of my rivals had stopped their rounds in my area, they had given up and left me to make a killing.
Well, I was pretty much on a roll yesterday afternoon. I'd already had 12 good sales, not just odds and ends, but major best-sellers being ordered. I was about to get back in the car and drop the orders off to the supplier, when I noticed a house that I hadn't seen before. It wasn't that the house itself was out of the ordinary, I was just convinced that I hadn't been there before. Not one to miss a challenge, or a new customer for that matter, I approached the long, high hedged driveway and set my mind thinking good thoughts about all our current lines. I was determined that this would be a big sale. It was a fair walk from the front entrance to the door, deceptively so in fact. I told myself that this would have to result in a big sale to make it worth the walk.
So, instead of leaving the catalogue at the front door, I thought I’d try a different tactic. I wondered to myself how many items I could sell on the spur of the moment. It was, looking back on it, a stupid idea. After all, it never used to work with those old-fashioned salesmen who carried all their wares with them, but I was in a very positive frame of mind that day and I didn't care.
I rang the doorbell and waited. Before long a sweet old lady answered the door. 'Bingo' I thought, just my kind of customer. I mustered all the charm I could and beamed a great big smile.
"Hello there. I've just been collecting orders for our new catalogue, it's really the best one we've had all year. I wondered whether you might be interested in some of our amazing labour saving devices?"
The lady smiled and looked me straight in the eye. "I'm quite happy without your 'labour saving devices'." She said.
I was only slightly taken aback with this reply, so I tried again.
"Oh, I think you might find that we have something in here for you." I flicked through the pages. "Look, page 43, here we are, a pickling machine. It takes all of the hassle out of pickling. I swear by them."
"What's wrong with pickling by hand? I think you've come to the wrong house."
"Ah, well I'm sure you're only saying that because you've never tried the power of this perfect pickling machine. I assure you that once you use it, you'll never want to pickle by hand again." I was secretly quite please with my little alliterative speech, but waited for the response.
"I don't think I would have any use for that."
"Ok, there are loads of other amazing offers here. Look, just on the other page we have our unique scissors set. If you have something to cut, anything, one of these beauties will cut it."
The old lady stood resolvedly at the doorstep. "I'm sure I have no need for more scissors."
I wasn't giving up that easily. I'd walked a good way to get here and I wasn't going to turn back without a sale. I stepped forward one step towards the lady. She stepped back into the house, but only the same distance.
"I believe you would find this handsome set of jam pots very smart sitting on your kitchen work-top." I said, still pushing for a sale and unconsciously pushing further in to the house.
"I have Jam pots, I have scissors, I have no need for anything in your catalogue."
"But I can assure you, no, I can promise you that these Jam pots are far better than whatever you have in your kitchen at the moment." I sensed a moment of weakness in the lady's eyes. It was working.
"Well, perhaps you'd like to come and take a closer look, then." She asked.
That was it, I had her. She was sold on the Jam Pots, I was sure of it.
I followed her to the kitchen and noticed that she did already have pots of jam. In fact, she had plenty of them dotted around the kitchen. They were mostly filled as well, not only with jams, but with many other things I couldn't even describe. Some of them had labels on as well, they seemed very personal, 'Albert Jam', 'James Pickle' and 'Sammy Conserve'. It all sounded very homely.
As I showed her the pictures of the pots, and more besides, she handed me a cup of tea. I must have been so wrapped up in selling these pots that I didn't notice my legs becoming numb. As I stood and talked, I had a growing sensation of the room becoming bigger. It was as if everything around me was being slowly magnified.
I asked for a seat, my head wasn't feeling quite right. The old lady promptly found me a comfy chair and I sat down. The feeling in my legs was completely gone now and the room became darker as I slipped into unconsciousness.
So, this is where you find me now. Just another jar in a kitchen. My legs are dissolving in to the surrounding jam and I have a feeling that the rest of me will be doing the same before long. So, if anyone finds this voice recording, assuming it isn't dissolved in jam or eaten, make a note of this warning and don't try to sell anything to nice old ladies if they don't want to buy it. I now realise that they know best.
Before you ask, I know what you're wondering. 'How did I get stuck in a pot of jam?', well, I'll tell you. I am, or was until today, a door-to-door salesman. It's not a difficult career, as any modern salesman will tell you. I simply drop a magazine through the letterbox and hope to have an order when I come back to collect it.
The secret to good selling (and don't pass this on to anyone, else I'll be out of a job) is to sound absolutely convinced that what you're selling them will change your customer's life forever. What you actually know is that they're buying yet another item that will sit on top of the fridge or a shelf in the kitchen and never get used. The important thing is to believe they will use it every day and couldn't possibly live without it, if you believe it, so will they. It also helped that most of my rivals had stopped their rounds in my area, they had given up and left me to make a killing.
Well, I was pretty much on a roll yesterday afternoon. I'd already had 12 good sales, not just odds and ends, but major best-sellers being ordered. I was about to get back in the car and drop the orders off to the supplier, when I noticed a house that I hadn't seen before. It wasn't that the house itself was out of the ordinary, I was just convinced that I hadn't been there before. Not one to miss a challenge, or a new customer for that matter, I approached the long, high hedged driveway and set my mind thinking good thoughts about all our current lines. I was determined that this would be a big sale. It was a fair walk from the front entrance to the door, deceptively so in fact. I told myself that this would have to result in a big sale to make it worth the walk.
So, instead of leaving the catalogue at the front door, I thought I’d try a different tactic. I wondered to myself how many items I could sell on the spur of the moment. It was, looking back on it, a stupid idea. After all, it never used to work with those old-fashioned salesmen who carried all their wares with them, but I was in a very positive frame of mind that day and I didn't care.
I rang the doorbell and waited. Before long a sweet old lady answered the door. 'Bingo' I thought, just my kind of customer. I mustered all the charm I could and beamed a great big smile.
"Hello there. I've just been collecting orders for our new catalogue, it's really the best one we've had all year. I wondered whether you might be interested in some of our amazing labour saving devices?"
The lady smiled and looked me straight in the eye. "I'm quite happy without your 'labour saving devices'." She said.
I was only slightly taken aback with this reply, so I tried again.
"Oh, I think you might find that we have something in here for you." I flicked through the pages. "Look, page 43, here we are, a pickling machine. It takes all of the hassle out of pickling. I swear by them."
"What's wrong with pickling by hand? I think you've come to the wrong house."
"Ah, well I'm sure you're only saying that because you've never tried the power of this perfect pickling machine. I assure you that once you use it, you'll never want to pickle by hand again." I was secretly quite please with my little alliterative speech, but waited for the response.
"I don't think I would have any use for that."
"Ok, there are loads of other amazing offers here. Look, just on the other page we have our unique scissors set. If you have something to cut, anything, one of these beauties will cut it."
The old lady stood resolvedly at the doorstep. "I'm sure I have no need for more scissors."
I wasn't giving up that easily. I'd walked a good way to get here and I wasn't going to turn back without a sale. I stepped forward one step towards the lady. She stepped back into the house, but only the same distance.
"I believe you would find this handsome set of jam pots very smart sitting on your kitchen work-top." I said, still pushing for a sale and unconsciously pushing further in to the house.
"I have Jam pots, I have scissors, I have no need for anything in your catalogue."
"But I can assure you, no, I can promise you that these Jam pots are far better than whatever you have in your kitchen at the moment." I sensed a moment of weakness in the lady's eyes. It was working.
"Well, perhaps you'd like to come and take a closer look, then." She asked.
That was it, I had her. She was sold on the Jam Pots, I was sure of it.
I followed her to the kitchen and noticed that she did already have pots of jam. In fact, she had plenty of them dotted around the kitchen. They were mostly filled as well, not only with jams, but with many other things I couldn't even describe. Some of them had labels on as well, they seemed very personal, 'Albert Jam', 'James Pickle' and 'Sammy Conserve'. It all sounded very homely.
As I showed her the pictures of the pots, and more besides, she handed me a cup of tea. I must have been so wrapped up in selling these pots that I didn't notice my legs becoming numb. As I stood and talked, I had a growing sensation of the room becoming bigger. It was as if everything around me was being slowly magnified.
I asked for a seat, my head wasn't feeling quite right. The old lady promptly found me a comfy chair and I sat down. The feeling in my legs was completely gone now and the room became darker as I slipped into unconsciousness.
So, this is where you find me now. Just another jar in a kitchen. My legs are dissolving in to the surrounding jam and I have a feeling that the rest of me will be doing the same before long. So, if anyone finds this voice recording, assuming it isn't dissolved in jam or eaten, make a note of this warning and don't try to sell anything to nice old ladies if they don't want to buy it. I now realise that they know best.
Lovely. I like these kind of stories.
Wouldn't hurt to know a few of her recipes either, I could make good use of them :D
Wouldn't hurt to know a few of her recipes either, I could make good use of them :D
RoJ wrote:
> Good to see a salesman get his just desserts!
> Sorry about the pathetic pun
I like that, never thought of how literal that was, in fact. Perhaps it was sub-conscious!
> Good to see a salesman get his just desserts!
> Sorry about the pathetic pun
I like that, never thought of how literal that was, in fact. Perhaps it was sub-conscious!
Good to see a salesman get his just desserts!
Sorry about the pathetic pun
Thumbs up anyway.
Sorry about the pathetic pun
Thumbs up anyway.
Fantastic, very nice.
Excellent, a thoroughly enjoyable tale. Really liked the character, very believeable as a salesman.
This is the weirdest situation I've ever been in. All I can see around me are giant pips and red jam, I can't even move very far without banging against another glass wall. It's not easy floating in Jam. I know that makes me sound like an expert, but it's certainly true of this Strawberry Jam pot I currently find myself in. The worst thing is that I don't even like Strawberry Jam.
Before you ask, I know what you're wondering. 'How did I get stuck in a pot of jam?', well, I'll tell you. I am, or was until today, a door-to-door salesman. It's not a difficult career, as any modern salesman will tell you. I simply drop a magazine through the letterbox and hope to have an order when I come back to collect it.
The secret to good selling (and don't pass this on to anyone, else I'll be out of a job) is to sound absolutely convinced that what you're selling them will change your customer's life forever. What you actually know is that they're buying yet another item that will sit on top of the fridge or a shelf in the kitchen and never get used. The important thing is to believe they will use it every day and couldn't possibly live without it, if you believe it, so will they. It also helped that most of my rivals had stopped their rounds in my area, they had given up and left me to make a killing.
Well, I was pretty much on a roll yesterday afternoon. I'd already had 12 good sales, not just odds and ends, but major best-sellers being ordered. I was about to get back in the car and drop the orders off to the supplier, when I noticed a house that I hadn't seen before. It wasn't that the house itself was out of the ordinary, I was just convinced that I hadn't been there before. Not one to miss a challenge, or a new customer for that matter, I approached the long, high hedged driveway and set my mind thinking good thoughts about all our current lines. I was determined that this would be a big sale. It was a fair walk from the front entrance to the door, deceptively so in fact. I told myself that this would have to result in a big sale to make it worth the walk.
So, instead of leaving the catalogue at the front door, I thought I’d try a different tactic. I wondered to myself how many items I could sell on the spur of the moment. It was, looking back on it, a stupid idea. After all, it never used to work with those old-fashioned salesmen who carried all their wares with them, but I was in a very positive frame of mind that day and I didn't care.
I rang the doorbell and waited. Before long a sweet old lady answered the door. 'Bingo' I thought, just my kind of customer. I mustered all the charm I could and beamed a great big smile.
"Hello there. I've just been collecting orders for our new catalogue, it's really the best one we've had all year. I wondered whether you might be interested in some of our amazing labour saving devices?"
The lady smiled and looked me straight in the eye. "I'm quite happy without your 'labour saving devices'." She said.
I was only slightly taken aback with this reply, so I tried again.
"Oh, I think you might find that we have something in here for you." I flicked through the pages. "Look, page 43, here we are, a pickling machine. It takes all of the hassle out of pickling. I swear by them."
"What's wrong with pickling by hand? I think you've come to the wrong house."
"Ah, well I'm sure you're only saying that because you've never tried the power of this perfect pickling machine. I assure you that once you use it, you'll never want to pickle by hand again." I was secretly quite please with my little alliterative speech, but waited for the response.
"I don't think I would have any use for that."
"Ok, there are loads of other amazing offers here. Look, just on the other page we have our unique scissors set. If you have something to cut, anything, one of these beauties will cut it."
The old lady stood resolvedly at the doorstep. "I'm sure I have no need for more scissors."
I wasn't giving up that easily. I'd walked a good way to get here and I wasn't going to turn back without a sale. I stepped forward one step towards the lady. She stepped back into the house, but only the same distance.
"I believe you would find this handsome set of jam pots very smart sitting on your kitchen work-top." I said, still pushing for a sale and unconsciously pushing further in to the house.
"I have Jam pots, I have scissors, I have no need for anything in your catalogue."
"But I can assure you, no, I can promise you that these Jam pots are far better than whatever you have in your kitchen at the moment." I sensed a moment of weakness in the lady's eyes. It was working.
"Well, perhaps you'd like to come and take a closer look, then." She asked.
That was it, I had her. She was sold on the Jam Pots, I was sure of it.
I followed her to the kitchen and noticed that she did already have pots of jam. In fact, she had plenty of them dotted around the kitchen. They were mostly filled as well, not only with jams, but with many other things I couldn't even describe. Some of them had labels on as well, they seemed very personal, 'Albert Jam', 'James Pickle' and 'Sammy Conserve'. It all sounded very homely.
As I showed her the pictures of the pots, and more besides, she handed me a cup of tea. I must have been so wrapped up in selling these pots that I didn't notice my legs becoming numb. As I stood and talked, I had a growing sensation of the room becoming bigger. It was as if everything around me was being slowly magnified.
I asked for a seat, my head wasn't feeling quite right. The old lady promptly found me a comfy chair and I sat down. The feeling in my legs was completely gone now and the room became darker as I slipped into unconsciousness.
So, this is where you find me now. Just another jar in a kitchen. My legs are dissolving in to the surrounding jam and I have a feeling that the rest of me will be doing the same before long. So, if anyone finds this voice recording, assuming it isn't dissolved in jam or eaten, make a note of this warning and don't try to sell anything to nice old ladies if they don't want to buy it. I now realise that they know best.
Before you ask, I know what you're wondering. 'How did I get stuck in a pot of jam?', well, I'll tell you. I am, or was until today, a door-to-door salesman. It's not a difficult career, as any modern salesman will tell you. I simply drop a magazine through the letterbox and hope to have an order when I come back to collect it.
The secret to good selling (and don't pass this on to anyone, else I'll be out of a job) is to sound absolutely convinced that what you're selling them will change your customer's life forever. What you actually know is that they're buying yet another item that will sit on top of the fridge or a shelf in the kitchen and never get used. The important thing is to believe they will use it every day and couldn't possibly live without it, if you believe it, so will they. It also helped that most of my rivals had stopped their rounds in my area, they had given up and left me to make a killing.
Well, I was pretty much on a roll yesterday afternoon. I'd already had 12 good sales, not just odds and ends, but major best-sellers being ordered. I was about to get back in the car and drop the orders off to the supplier, when I noticed a house that I hadn't seen before. It wasn't that the house itself was out of the ordinary, I was just convinced that I hadn't been there before. Not one to miss a challenge, or a new customer for that matter, I approached the long, high hedged driveway and set my mind thinking good thoughts about all our current lines. I was determined that this would be a big sale. It was a fair walk from the front entrance to the door, deceptively so in fact. I told myself that this would have to result in a big sale to make it worth the walk.
So, instead of leaving the catalogue at the front door, I thought I’d try a different tactic. I wondered to myself how many items I could sell on the spur of the moment. It was, looking back on it, a stupid idea. After all, it never used to work with those old-fashioned salesmen who carried all their wares with them, but I was in a very positive frame of mind that day and I didn't care.
I rang the doorbell and waited. Before long a sweet old lady answered the door. 'Bingo' I thought, just my kind of customer. I mustered all the charm I could and beamed a great big smile.
"Hello there. I've just been collecting orders for our new catalogue, it's really the best one we've had all year. I wondered whether you might be interested in some of our amazing labour saving devices?"
The lady smiled and looked me straight in the eye. "I'm quite happy without your 'labour saving devices'." She said.
I was only slightly taken aback with this reply, so I tried again.
"Oh, I think you might find that we have something in here for you." I flicked through the pages. "Look, page 43, here we are, a pickling machine. It takes all of the hassle out of pickling. I swear by them."
"What's wrong with pickling by hand? I think you've come to the wrong house."
"Ah, well I'm sure you're only saying that because you've never tried the power of this perfect pickling machine. I assure you that once you use it, you'll never want to pickle by hand again." I was secretly quite please with my little alliterative speech, but waited for the response.
"I don't think I would have any use for that."
"Ok, there are loads of other amazing offers here. Look, just on the other page we have our unique scissors set. If you have something to cut, anything, one of these beauties will cut it."
The old lady stood resolvedly at the doorstep. "I'm sure I have no need for more scissors."
I wasn't giving up that easily. I'd walked a good way to get here and I wasn't going to turn back without a sale. I stepped forward one step towards the lady. She stepped back into the house, but only the same distance.
"I believe you would find this handsome set of jam pots very smart sitting on your kitchen work-top." I said, still pushing for a sale and unconsciously pushing further in to the house.
"I have Jam pots, I have scissors, I have no need for anything in your catalogue."
"But I can assure you, no, I can promise you that these Jam pots are far better than whatever you have in your kitchen at the moment." I sensed a moment of weakness in the lady's eyes. It was working.
"Well, perhaps you'd like to come and take a closer look, then." She asked.
That was it, I had her. She was sold on the Jam Pots, I was sure of it.
I followed her to the kitchen and noticed that she did already have pots of jam. In fact, she had plenty of them dotted around the kitchen. They were mostly filled as well, not only with jams, but with many other things I couldn't even describe. Some of them had labels on as well, they seemed very personal, 'Albert Jam', 'James Pickle' and 'Sammy Conserve'. It all sounded very homely.
As I showed her the pictures of the pots, and more besides, she handed me a cup of tea. I must have been so wrapped up in selling these pots that I didn't notice my legs becoming numb. As I stood and talked, I had a growing sensation of the room becoming bigger. It was as if everything around me was being slowly magnified.
I asked for a seat, my head wasn't feeling quite right. The old lady promptly found me a comfy chair and I sat down. The feeling in my legs was completely gone now and the room became darker as I slipped into unconsciousness.
So, this is where you find me now. Just another jar in a kitchen. My legs are dissolving in to the surrounding jam and I have a feeling that the rest of me will be doing the same before long. So, if anyone finds this voice recording, assuming it isn't dissolved in jam or eaten, make a note of this warning and don't try to sell anything to nice old ladies if they don't want to buy it. I now realise that they know best.